Life's A Witch

Chapter Twenty-Four

I lay in bed awake, waiting for the rest of the house to come back to life. It's a funny feeling, being the only one up while everyone else is asleep; everything's quieter. It's easier to hear yourself think. I'd always had the theory that you can't get bogged down with the stress of life when you're still in a horizontal position and those around you are snoring and dreaming. It had been a long time since the house had been quiet like this and I reveled in it.

I got to know the way Asher sounded when he slept. He breathed slowly and evenly, and he barely moved at all. I'd been told by friends who'd shared beds with me at slumber parties growing up that I was a thrasher, possibly due to my active dreams. At one point Trish refused to ever share a bed with me again.

But Asher was a calm sleeper. Not that I was watching him in a creepy kind of way. More like observing him as I waited for him to wake up. At one point, I could barely see him breathing, and I got so paranoid thinking that he might have died in the middle of the night that I pulled my compact off the bedside table to find out. Luckily the mirror fogged up when I placed it near his mouth and I was able to relax knowing I hadn't lost him, too.

As soon as I began to hear others move around the house, I decided it was probably an acceptable time to leave the comfort of my bed—and Asher. But I didn't want to ditch him. I knew from my dream what that could feel like.

There was work to be done before I could wake him, though. No way was I daring to breathe on him with my morning dragon breath. Nuh-uh. But getting up would mean moving around in bed, which could possibly wake Asher before I was ready, so I had to take a few shortcuts to achieve morning perfection.

Casting my freshening spell, I sucked in deeply, tasting the minty flavor play across my lips. With that out of the way, I turned to the next order of business: changing this mess into a success.

"Renewbus freshimo perfecto," I whispered.

I didn't need a mirror to know that my hair was transforming into waves that would glisten in the light. Various shades of concealer and makeup were appearing on my face, covering my flaws and highlighting my natural beauty. When I was sure I was boy worthy, I knew it was time to do what I had to do.

It was time for Asher to wake up.

"Quivable divanish."

I stayed as still as I could as the bed shook like a mini-earthquake. It felt a little like sitting in a vibrating chair—there was just enough movement to shake you out of whatever dream you were having. And that was exactly what it did to Asher.

"Whaa?" he asked as his hands flew to grip the comforter. I, however, acted like it was Asher who'd woken me up.

"What's wrong?" I asked in my most sleepy, I-just-woke-up voice.

Asher was looking around the room now, his head flipping from side to side as if he could find the culprit that had suddenly awakened him. When he finally realized we were alone in the room and nothing was out of place, his eyes dropped and rested on me.

"Huh? Nothing. I must've been having a weird dream or something," he muttered.

"What about?" I asked.

"I have no idea," he said, shaking his head. His eyes roamed over my face as he noticed my morning glow. He smiled lazily. "Wow. You're really not a Hyde, are you?"

"A Hyde?" I asked, confused.

"You know, there're those girls who look great during the day, but when you see them first thing in the morning, you realize in reality they don't look anything like the person you fell asleep next to. You go to bed with Dr. Jekyll and wake up with Mr. Hyde."